


Malfoys Love Seekers

by SwiggitySwagMyDude



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Quiddich, The Battle of Hogwarts, its mostly fluff with a bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 12:41:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6195520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwiggitySwagMyDude/pseuds/SwiggitySwagMyDude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nearly common knowlege, Malfoys simply fall head over heels for seekers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malfoys Love Seekers

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: not my characters
> 
> Alright, so this is my first fic, so please feel free to leave constructive criticism!  
> I sort of mashed the final battle in the movie and the books togther, just a heads up!

Malfoys love seekers.

It must be the graceful moves in the air, how red their faces and how messy their hair gets after chasing a snitch, or simply how passionate they seem to be about everything.

Quite possibly it’s a combination off all three.

Abraxas Malfoy, 13, years old, Slytherin house, fourth in class (just 1 measly little point behind Amila Durbish, the Ravenclaw snob) had just began to take notice of girls, when Aisha Shafiq (13-and-one-half years old, Slytherin), ran out to the quidditch pitch, nearly missing tryouts, and beat him for the part of alternant seeker (soon she’d be booted up too real seeker, and couldn't stop grinning for days). 

He’d never seen anything as wonderful as watching her fly through the air, dark hair in a tight braid twisting through the air as she bobbed and weaved through bludgers and brooms, running down beaters and chasers to wrap brown fingers with green lacquered nails around the snitch, before flying several speedy circles around the pitch in victory. 

Really, he’d been doomed from the start.

Abraxas Malfoy, (25, newlywed to Aisha Malfoy nee Shafiq) blushed bright red as his best man (Anthony Zabini, 25, extremely drunk) joked to the guests that if Aisha had been a chaser, none of them would be here right now.  
-  
Lucius Malfoy (11, about to be sorted) stared across the train cart as Narcissa Black (also 11, mouth chattering on at a million miles a minute) talked on and on about how her older sisters, Bellatrix and Andromeda, had told her all about Hogwarts and how lovely it was. She confided in him that she hoped to one day be on the quidditch team, that Andromeda and Bellatrix were beaters, and she really, really, really hoped to one day be a seeker. 

He’d written to his parents, and Father had written “Good choice,” back, but he wasn’t sure what that meant.

Lucius Malfoy (16, watching Slytherin destroy Hufflepuff, anxiously awaiting his one month anniversary), couldn’t help but drop his jaw as Narcissa entered a steep dive, standing up , hanging on to the edge of the barrier as she got closer to the ground, and right as she was about to pull up, lost control and crashed into the ground.

Narcissa Malfoy (24, until very recently Narcissa Black) laughingly told the guests assembled at the wedding about how Lucius had fallen from the high heights of the quidditch bleachers, fainting dead away after she had taken a fall that had only sprained her wrist, but ended up with him in the hospital wing for a week on skelegrow after breaking two arms and a leg.   
-  
Draco Malfoy (age just turned six, giggling like mad) soared three feet above the air through the gardens, on his very first broom (child size, of course). He blew aside a flock of peacocks that clucked nervously, and destroyed a patch of Mummy’s flowers. Grammy Aisy and Mummy flew behind him, laying on their brooms almost leisurely, more at ease being in the air on brooms than on the ground, (meanwhile, Grandpa and Daddy raced after him on foot, out off breath and worried out of their minds). 

Draco Malfoy (13 years old, third year, seeker) chased after a tiny sliver of gold, ducking and spinning and diving, always just one second behind Potter.

Potter.

Ugh.

It wasn’t his fault Potter was just so damn distracting. His absolutely horrid messy black hair gleamed in the sun too much, and Draco kept mistaking a sliver of his bronze skin for the snitch. 

Idiot. The prat had probably cursed him or something.

His father would hear about this.

Lucius and Narcissa of course heard about it, rolling eyes and sighing, Narcissa teasing that Draco was nearly as dense as Lucius had been at that age, but both worried about what it could mean, Draco being obsessed with the Boy Who Lived. But of course, the Dark Lord was gone, dust scattered in the wind, and the letter was passed to Abraxas and Aisha, who found every little thing about Draco’s total obliviousness hilarious.   
-  
Draco Malfoy (17, battle scarred and war torn, born on the wrong side and doing everything he could to make it right) threw curse after curse into a crowd of death eaters. Tears streamed into a path of dust and sweat and blood down his cheek, as he desperately watched for two heads full of once shockingly blond, now turning a duller gray.

Throw a stunner into the crown, then a cutting hex. What was the one Potter had used on him? Sectumsempra. Use that a few times. A stunner. Hex. Curse. Shield. He saw the death eaters fall. He saw students fall. 

“Draco!” His mother. God, she was okay. 

He spun, breath ragged. Two people, back to back, desperate colored lights fleeing from their wands. He recognized their shoes. A bombarda sped by her, and she barely dodged, the spell whisking her mask off instead. 

Narcissa looked as if she had given up. “Draco!” she called again. His father took a slicing spell to the leg, crumpling where he stood. His mother gave him one last look, and shouted, “Be safe!” before apparating them away. 

A fury like he had never known before came over Draco. He fought like he’d never fought before, just barely completing the first spell before sending out the next. Somehow he’d ended fighting alongside Longbottom and Lovegood, a tight circle, sending out curses in multiple directions, guarding each other.

Suddenly, the fighting stopped. A voice cut through the crowd.

Potter was dead. Gone. Forever. The one prophesied to kill the Dark Lord was killed instead. His body lay, limp, like a doll, in Hagrid’s arms. He swallowed, choking back tears. His parents were back, behind the Dark Lord, his mother helping support his father. 

“Draco, come, quickly.” His father’s voice was a harsh whisper. “Draco, please.” Slowly, Draco walked over, hating himself with every step, feeling bile rise in his throat. The Dark Lord gave him a mockery of an embrace, wand scraping over his neck as a warning. 

Longbottom stood, yelling about Potter, Harry, and how he’d fought for him, how it wasn’t over, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Bellatrix watching the Dark Lord, waiting for her cue to attack.

Potter fell, dropping from the half giant’s arms. He was alive? Elation rose in Draco, and he gathered his strength. “POTTER!” He yelled, sprinting towards him. “POTTER!”. He threw his wand towards him in a graceful arc, and Harry caught it.

“PROTEGO!” The boy who lived yelled, a great shield erupting between him and He Who Must Not Be Named. Two spells collided, and when the dust settled, Tom Riddle lay on the ground, dead.

Later, much later, Draco stood on the bridge, throwing down to the ground below. He heard footsteps behind him. 

“Malfoy.”

“Potter.”

“I...I’d like to thank you. I heard you fought well… Thank you.” Potter stood next to him and picked up some rubble, joining him in tossing it over the edge.”

“Potter, can I ask you something?” Draco said, eyes downcast.

“Uhh, sure.”

“Did you honestly tell me to come out here in the dead of night, when you should be either celebrating or mourning to tell me that I fight good?” There was a bit of bite in his voice. “Sorry, I just...We’re not friends.” A hand hovered over his shoulder, than actually touched it. 

“We could be. You helped save a lot of people. You’re a good man Malfoy. Let’s start over.” The hand on his shoulder pushed gently, turning him until they stood face to face.

“Hi, I’m Harry Potter.” He stuck his hand out.

“Draco Malfoy.” He grasped the hand, and they shook, tentative smiles breaking both of their faces. 

“Let’s get back to the castle.”  
-  
Harry Potter (25, dressed smartly, hands shaking) swallowed hard, and looked at the man standing across from him. Draco took his hands and smiled, and Harry couldn’t help but return it. 

“I do.”


End file.
